


a long succession of small mutations

by brilligspoons



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Gen, Grey-A, M/M, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Life Partners, Roxy-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it stands, they've become each other's support systems, which in their case ultimately means they have no secrets from each other, and also they spend an inordinate amount of time getting drunk together when they're in London and off-duty. Possibly it means other things as well, but Roxy likes to spread out her world-shattering personal revelations over a longer period of time, thank you very much.</p><p>And yet—well.</p><p>"You, Eggsy Unwin," she hears herself saying in a pub one night, her voice gin-soaked and coming out lopsided, "are my <i>best friend</i>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a long succession of small mutations

**Author's Note:**

> This is apparently what happens when darthjamtart asks me to write about people underestimating Roxy and Eggsy, and I...almost completely ignore that in favor of writing platonic life partners. Oops.
> 
> Also, apologies for any glaring Americanisms, and for the very weak attempt at including Eggsy's way of speaking. Also, I tagged this Harry/Eggsy because it's hinted fairly explicitly that they're working on it. (And yes, in case you can't tell, I'm pretty firmly in Camp They Didn't Check the Body. *jazz hands*)

Once, when she was sixteen, Roxy fought with her mother over a dress.

Of course she feels silly about it nearly ten years and a stilted reconciliation later, and she will readily admit now that the issue was not the dress at all (though she maintains that the style did her no favors whatsoever, and she has photographic evidence to prove it). Roxy-at-sixteen felt stifled, like the world was collapsing in on her. Compounding this state of mind was the dress' existence, the loss of a rare free weekend home from boarding school to yet another gala full of stuffy peers, the burgeoning awareness of and guilt over her extensive privilege in life, the many and varied expectations placed on her not just by her parents but by society at large, and by the seemingly insurmountable secret she'd been carrying inside herself for nearly two years. She barely remembers the screaming match, but in the end she'd been made to wear the dress and attend the gala anyway, but not before her father had cut off her spending money for the rest of the school year and forbidden her from traveling with friends to the Alps that winter.

On the other hand, adaptation becomes one of the most important skills in her metaphorical arsenal, just after knife-fighting and krav maga. It serves Roxy well through the rest of her time at her all girls' boarding school, where being somewhat-openly bi was simultaneously the best and worst thing (depending on the girl she happened to be with and who caught them at it) and into Oxford, where she had the _great fortune_ to be mentored by _the_ Andrew Price, one of the most brilliant and, she discovered, most misogynistic engineers in the world. She has no doubt that this skill is what prompted Percival to propose her for Kingsman, though she's rather more proud of her ability to take down a man twice her size than she is of being able to drink any kind or amount of tea without wincing.

Roxy is somehow not surprised, though, that someone from the opposite end of the class spectrum is just as good at it as she is. Eggsy might not be what she expects from another proposal once Percival gets around to explaining what's happening to her, but that, she knows, is simply her prejudice speaking. The moment he walks into the barracks, hesitant and already defensive and quite clearly not sure what's going on, Roxy pegs Eggsy as the only true competition—so she shakes his hand and welcomes him, defends him when Charlie and his goons start the expected round of mockery. When he reciprocates with encouragement and support during their training, she knows she can accept the gestures at face value.

What she _doesn't_ anticipate, however, is that a year and two life-changing events after their first meeting, Roxy finds herself unable to imagine life without him.

Not in a romantic or sexual sense, though if Roxy lusted a little less after Amelia and Eggsy were less into unattainable people (well, perhaps not truly unattainable—their new Arthur isn't an easy man to read, but every so often she wonders if he isn't just biding his time), she wouldn't necessarily say no. As it stands, they've become each other's support systems, which in their case ultimately means they have no secrets from each other, and also they spend an inordinate amount of time getting drunk together when they're in London and off-duty. Possibly it means other things as well, but Roxy likes to spread out her world-shattering personal revelations over a longer period of time, thank you very much.

And yet—well.

"You, Eggsy Unwin," she hears herself saying in a pub one night, her voice gin-soaked and coming out lopsided, "are my _best friend_."

Eggsy's answering grin and tight hug makes something unnameable burn white-hot deep in her chest. Roxy takes another sip of her martini and leans more firmly against his side. She'll name it later, maybe when the room stops spinning.

***

Amelia asks her about Eggsy in the aftermath of one of their not-dates. It's an odd moment to bring it up, she thinks, since they're still sweating and shaking under Roxy's covers, but since the question sounds serious, she tries to answer it properly.

"I won't say he's like a brother to me," Roxy tells her, "since mine are a bit shit and I don't quite have a frame of reference for it. Also, I've told you I _would_ sleep with him, given different circumstances."

"I probably would, too, if I'm honest," admits Amelia. "He's got that puppy-dog appeal, doesn't he?"

Roxy hums in agreement as she trails a finger down the top of Amelia's breast. "Is he really what you want to talk about right now?"

Amelia shivers.

***

Kingsmen generally work alone and often for months or even years at a time, Merlin explains to them not too long after the V-day. Roxy silently wonders if that's one of the reasons the previous Arthur and several other agents close to him were so easily swayed by the idea of a societal culling; she can imagine how lonely that sort of life might become after a while, and though she knows that's what she signed on for, she's grateful when Merlin decides that she and Eggsy will work together more often than not. Setting themselves apart from the world only works up to a certain point, she thinks. Better there's someone close at hand to ground them, however they manage it.

Roxy is especially grateful for the new protocol as she and Eggsy walk arm-in-arm into the opulent hall Oxford's reserved for the evening's auction. The event is ostensibly a normal fundraiser to fill in some of the financial gaps left by the loss of many alumni during the V-day incident, a play at normality in a world all but gone to shit, but about a third of the people on the guest list are there to bid on some rather… _delicate_ items left behind by those who threw their lot in with Valentine. Roxy, as an alumna, hadn't needed Merlin to create an invitation for her and dutifully sent hers back with a note about her plus-one. They're instructed not to bid on the items in question but to note who does and quietly deal with them or alert more appropriate agencies to do so as they see fit.

However, seeing her ex-mentor's name on the guest list and actually seeing him in person are two very different things, Roxy belatedly realizes as the man in question pushes through a group of people to greet her.

"Miss Morton!" Price calls to her when he's still a few meters away.

Roxy pastes on a smile and briefly squeezes Eggsy's elbow tighter. Until now she hadn't remembered just how much she disliked Price, but there it is, a seething mass of rage just underneath her skin. She releases Eggsy's arm to shake Price's hand.

"Professor, it's lovely to see you again," Roxy says with all the warmth of her hate. "I'm so sorry I couldn't attend your lecture last spring. I understand it was quite the reunion."

Price holds onto her hand for far too long, and his eyes trail down until they land on her chest. "I forgive you, of course," he says to her breasts. "How could I not, when you return to me now, more stunning than ever? One of my better performances, though. You would have swooned at the sight."

 _Pig._ "Yes, I'm sure I would have," she says as she casually threads her arm through Eggsy's again.

Price notices the movement and acknowledges Eggsy's presence for the first time. "Ah," he says, visibly taken aback. "Roxy, I didn't know you went for the lads! I would've swept you off your feet back in the day if I had. Andrew Price, engineering." He holds out his hand for Eggsy to shake.

Roxy holds her breath. They'd discussed this extensively beforehand, the sort of persona he would adopt when they inevitably ran into one or more of her old schoolmates or professors, which schools he could say he attended without anyone questioning him, and a few other things Roxy thought would get them through the evening without a hitch. But even though she trusts him with her life and more besides, Roxy is fully aware of Eggsy's tendency to not do what he's fucking told if and when it pleases him, so she can't honestly say she didn't see this coming.

 _Don't do it_ , she thinks as she watches his mouth stretch into a lazy grin. _Don't you fucking dare._

"Eggsy Unwin, bruv, " he says in his sloppiest accent, "boyfriend extraordinaire. Cheers."

_You unbelieveable prick._

***

"Stop me if you've heard this one before," Roxy says, "but do you ever think about settling down?"

Amelia looks at her askance over the sea of empty margarita glasses between them on the table. "What, like, a husband and two kids and a dog or something? Seems a bit unreasonable in our line of work, and my sexuality, for that matter."

"Maybe not a husband," she playfully taps Amelia's foot with her own, "but, yeah, setting up shop with a...familial unit of some kind."

Amelia mouths the words _familial unit_ and laughs when Roxy kicks her again. The waiter brings them another round of drinks, and Roxy asks him to close their tab when he can. They've been at the bar for hours already, and the room is getting too loud for her tastes, especially when there's a perfectly good hotel room waiting for them a few blocks away. Across the table, Amelia continues to stare at her with a dreamy-drunk smile.

"I would like a kid someday, I think," Amelia says. "Not tomorrow, or even next year. But eventually. And you? Have you got designs for a family all your own?"

Roxy leans back in her chair. Unbidden, her mind calls up the image of Daisy tearfully waving goodbye to her as she got into the cab for the airport earlier in the day, Michelle's voice faint in the background, reassuring her (and Eggsy as well, most likely) that Roxy would be back from her trip soon. She wonders if she should find it strange that this is what she thinks of as family now—not her stuffy, controlling parents and bratty younger brothers, but her best friend and his mother and baby sister.

"Might have a few designs in mind," Roxy says.

***

When she was seventeen, Roxy snuck her then-boyfriend into her parents' house one night during winter break. They'd fumbled their way through the dark and into bed as quietly as they could, and then proceeded to wake the whole house when he licked her to a screaming orgasm.

"What part of _not under our roof_ do you not understand, young lady?" her mother had raged at her after the young man was escorted off the premises.

"That's a bit of a double standard, don't you think?" Roxy had seethed. "You never complained when my girlfriends spent the night."

"Well," her father said, "you were just _sleeping_ with them, weren't you? No funny business going on there."

And that was how Roxy discovered that her parents hadn't believed her when she'd come out to them. Her revenge, such as it was, was to date only girls through university, causing her parents no small amount of distress when they were forced to introduce her girlfriends to their fellow lords and ladies. On the bright side, both sets of grandparents thought the whole thing delightfully funny, which Roxy kept note of as a win on her side of the war against her parents.

"Still a bit shit," Eggsy says when she drowsily recounts the story to him. "Not having them believe you, I mean."

They're curled up together on the dirt floor of some dank basement outside Vienna, the only safe place Merlin could locate for them until their pursuers gave up the chase and fucked off. Eggsy had been against hiding, wanting to have done with the mission; but then he'd also been against getting shot in the side, and, well, that hadn't worked out for him at all. Roxy presses her face against his back ("I'm injured, so I get to be the little spoon this time, yeah?" "Whatever, you enormous child, you just like a good cuddle after a fight.") and closes her eyes before nodding once. The adrenaline from their unexpected flight from the hotel is wearing off, leaving her exhausted and sore and more than a little cranky, if she's honest, but she's trying to keep both their minds off the current predicament.

"They're not bad people," she says, the excuse automatically making its way out of her mouth. "They're just—"

"Products of their environment? Roxy, mate, if that were actually an excuse that worked, I wouldn't be here with you in this lovely dirt oasis of ours, would I?"

Actually, she usually ends that statement with _bad at being anything but rich wankers_ , but she figures he's close enough that she won't argue. Besides, she knows he has a point, as much as she hates to ever admit that. Roxy sighs.

"What about you, then?" she asks.

Eggsy shrugs. "Nothin' to tell, is there?"

Roxy frowns and sits up on her hip to peer over his shoulder. His eyes are closed tight in a wince, and she glances down to check the wound. It doesn't look any worse than it did an hour ago, but she's been shot before and knows how much pain he must be in at the moment.

She rests her chin on his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she says. "We can talk about Michelle's plans for Daisy's party instead, if you like."

"It's going to be a fucking circus," he says immediately, "may even involve a circus, I dunno. Mum's got that crazed look in her eye. Anythin' could happen."

"Arthur's involved, too, I hear. Must be weird, our boss and your mum joining forces for a little girl's third birthday party."

Eggsy doesn't respond to that. Roxy settles back down and throws her free arm around his chest, squeezing as tightly as she dares. They lie there in silence for over an hour, dozing off and on, every sound rudely throwing them back into alertness. She's prepared to forget she ever asked the question; there might not be many boundaries between them these days, but she's damn well willing to respect the ones that do exist.

Just as she's about to fall asleep completely, she hears Eggsy say her name.

"You awake?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He's silent for a long stretch, then says, "It's situational, innit? For me, I mean." He pauses again. "Like, you've had loads of boyfriends and girlfriends, right? And you've been attracted to all of 'em?"

"More or less," Roxy says cautiously, feeling a bit like she's about to be horribly lost in a wood somewhere.

"I don't really get that way. I had, like, a girlfriend in sixth form, and there was a lad in the Marines, but other than that, it's just been…" He trails off. "I know it sounds weird, seeing as you know I had that—that _thing_ with Tilde for a bit, but now she's a mate and all, and—"

"It's alright," Roxy interrupts him. "I think I get it."

Silence again. Then, in the smallest voice she's ever heard from him, "You don't think it's weird, or wrong, or somethin'?"

She takes a moment to think it over. She doesn't, actually. For as insular and exclusive as boarding school is, Roxy encountered all sorts there, and it's not in her nature to be judgmental about other people's sexual proclivities, or lack thereof, anyway. The difficulty here is not being flippant about it when Eggsy is so clearly uncomfortable admitting it in the first place. There will be a time when they can make jokes, she thinks, but now is not it.

"You're not weird or wrong," Roxy says.

He reaches up and squeezes her arm. Four hours later, Roxy's glasses chirp loudly into the early morning silence, letting them know that Merlin's cleared the area and it's finally safe to leave. Eggsy shrugs off her offer to support his weight as they walk but doesn't push her away when she takes hold of his hand. They don't let go of each other until they land in London.

"Your place or mine?" Eggsy asks once the medical staff finally release them.

"Yours," Roxy replies without hesitating. "Do you think your mum will make us shepherd's pie if we ask nicely?"

***

They've been _sort of seeing each other_ for nearly a full year when Amelia finally decides to ask what it is they're doing exactly. True to form, she pops the question mid-sex, just as Roxy's tonguing her clit and thrusting two fingers inside her. Rather than let herself be interrupted, Roxy intensifies her efforts, and by the time she pulls away to answer, Amelia is shuddering in the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"We need to have a discussion about your timing," Roxy tells her.

"Sorry, love," replies Amelia, voice high and breathy, "but sometimes I feel like this is the only time I have your full attention."

"You can thank Arthur and Merlin for that," grumbles Roxy. "It's not like I asked for our holiday in Lisbon to coincide with an assassination attempt."

"Regardless."

Roxy flops onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. "Well, for one thing," she says, "I'd like to be able to call you my girlfriend once in a while, if that's allowed."

Amelia makes an assenting noise.

"And for another," Roxy rolls over onto her stomach to look up at her, "do you think you might consider transferring to UK HQ in the not-too-distant future? My flat is certainly big enough for two."

"But is it big enough for more than two, I wonder," Amelia muses. She winks at Roxy. "You do come with an awful lot of baggage, love."

"I'm going to tell Eggsy you called him that."

"He loves it, really."

***

Amelia likes to tease her about her and Eggsy's domestic partnership, but it isn't until she starts receiving mail at Eggsy's house that Roxy realizes that, no, this is just the way life works now, apparently.

"I'm not sure why you bother keeping a flat," Michelle tells her over coffee one morning. "I can see wanting your own space once Amelia comes back to London permanently, but it's such a waste now, don't you think?"

She doesn't mean it unkindly, not at all, but Roxy chokes on a mouthful of hot liquid. She blinks, and suddenly she's seeing the world in a whole new light, one in which sitting at the kitchen table with Eggsy's mum while they're both in bathrobes and reading different sections of the paper together is the norm. Roxy mentally braces herself for the revelation to be terrifying, but Eggsy waltzes into the room a moment later with Daisy in his arms, and then there's just...no time for it to be weird. No inclination for it later, either, once the chaos of their morning routine is completed and Roxy's calling a cab to bring them to the tailor's.

"Do you mind?" Roxy asks once they're sitting in the cab.

Eggsy glances at her as he adjusts his cufflinks. "What, am I doin' it wrong again? Harry showed me how the new ones sit just last week—"

"No, I mean. Do you mind that I'm basically living with you and your family?"

He rolls his eyes and grins. "Yeah, Rox, I mind so much that I haven't said anythin' 'bout it for a year." He knocks his fist against her shoulder lightly. "More worried Mum's gonna replace me with you, aren't I? You clean the tub better than I do."

Roxy punches him in return, then settles back to watch the streets go by. She considers asking him again if he's sure, but the vague anxiety has already started to fade from her chest. It's fine. _More than fine_ , she thinks. _It's perfect_.

A shop window catches her eye, and a thought occurs to her.

"I think I'm going to get Daisy a puppy of her own," Roxy says, and not even Eggsy's answering groan changes her mind.


End file.
